Goosie Goosie Gander
by Anniehow
Summary: Five scenes from the saving of a seal. Crack!fic. GEN


SPOILERS: generic for season 4

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I guess it should be a tradition by now: celebrate a successful exam by posting the crack!fic that I wrote when I was procrastinating my studies I couldn't keep my eyes open over the books anymore :-D this time, it's an even worse kind of crack!fic. You'll see *evil grin*. I just want to point out that despite the as-previously-mentioned crack!status, this fic actually has formal rules: first scene, 100 words; second scene, 200 words; third scene, 300 words; fourth scene, 600 words; fifth scene, 800 words. It clocks in at an even 2000 total.

Concrit would be very welcome. Thanks to Rinkle for the beta!

Disclaimer: Supernatural is owned by it's creator Kripke and the CW network, and I am in no way affiliated with them.

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1

The demon meandered about, checking each room. In the downstairs living room the angel was still trapped, immobile, inside the circle. The demon came closer, just to see if any hint of awareness would break the angel's blank expression.

It didn't.

The only movement was the steady trickle of blood drops down its left arm, peeking from under the sleeves and staining its coat.

The demon hoped they'd get enough time to properly research binding methods for these bastards. He wanted to kill it slowly, but that was usually much too dangerous.

Without wasting breath, he continued on his way.

2

As soon as the demon vacated the room, Castiel blinked and straightened his head. The trap limited his senses to the immediate space, but that would be quite enough. He pulled back the clothing on his arm, exposing the deep gash underneath.

Luckily the sentry hadn't realized the importance of it.

He crouched low, staining his fingertips with his own blood and using it to trace symbols all along the edge of the demonic circle. When he finished they all dried up at once, simultaneously, unlike ordinary human blood.

He straightened. Breaking the trap was unadvisable, as it would alert the demons to his escape. He needed to walk out of it and leave it intact if he had a hope of going undetected and completing his mission. He pushed against the boundaries carefully, feeling them stretch slowly but surely, thinning out all over his body and making him finally understand that human expression, 'makes my skin crawl'.

Once free he stretched his perceptions, taking in all the rooms of the house. It appeared deserted, but he knew for sure that at least six demons were somewhere upstairs.

He rolled his shoulders, flexing his wings. He had work to do.

3

He crept up the stairs as noiselessly as an animal on padded paws. Instinct told him to go to the front, to the rooms facing west, but discipline made him quell any rash action and check each space for stray enemies before making his move.

He found them all deserted and undisturbed. The demons hadn't been wasting time by indulging in violence and disruption; their efficiency was the main reason he had ended up trapped in the first place, and he resolved not to underestimate them now.

He finished checking the back, quickly but with care, before heading for the front rooms. They had probably set up the altar in the center one as it would be the most favorably situated. He stopped right in front of the closed door. The wards that impeded his senses from scoping it out were so strong that he couldn't even hear any noise from the inside, though they had to be all there, and they had probably already started the ritual, with their abominable chants and malicious actions. He hoped there weren't more than the six he'd seen, or that they hadn't called any back up while he was trapped and blinded. Enough was enough.

There was a small, rhythmic noise coming from the room on the left, but he already knew what was there. He turned his head to acknowledge the scene: Uriel paused his efforts briefly and gave him a silent nod. He'd been trapped here, so close to their target, and he wasn't yet free to help. Castiel knew he couldn't risk leaving the demons alone any longer, so he turned from his Brother and opened the door in front of him, breaking the wards with his presence alone. As he entered, the door closed behind his back without a touch.

4

Uriel watched Castiel walking into battle and then bent his head back to the task of freeing himself. It was all the fault of his vessel: if he'd been able to walk the Earth in his true form, this embarrassing situation would have never come to pass. And now he was pinned like a worthless insect while his Brother carried out their orders on his own. At least now he didn't have to worry about alerting the demons to his efforts. He adjusted his grip on the hilt of the sword and pushed with all his strength. It budged, minimally, but it finally budged. From the altar room he could hear the indiscriminate sound of vicious fighting.

He looked down at his stomach where the huge sword pierced him, and then stepped back to brace his back against the wall, sliding his flesh along the blade and exposing another inch of bloodied metal. It was much too big to be wielded by a puny human – ornamental, purely useless decoration - but of course the heft hadn't been a problem for the demons. He gripped the hilt again and pushed until his arms had extended to their maximum, but the sword was longer and he was still trapped.

With an aggravated sigh, he walked his flesh forward again, and again he pushed until he could at least free the blade from the wall. Then he briefly considered walking into battle - which sounded like it was reaching it's climax - like that and had to dismiss the idea; he'd just be a hindrance.

There was a chest of drawers that was solid enough to use for leverage with the sword; he stuck the hilt in it and then slid his body backwards, talking care not to drop the blade and further damaging his vessel, and was finally free. The battle, however, was regretfully over.

Castiel walked out of the altar room resting a thin, curved blade on his left shoulder and clutching a small bundle of cloth in his right arm.

Uriel discarded his sword and regarded him with some satisfaction. "You saved the seal." It was an unnecessary remark - if it had been broken he'd have felt it immediately - but this was as close to an acknowledgment of a job well done as he'd grant Castiel, and his Brother knew it.

Castiel inclined his head in a silent confirmation, then flicked his left wrist and planted the katana he had appropriated into the wooden floor. "How many of these do you suppose they have? This must be the fifth one we've found."

"As many they have, as many we'll destroy," Uriel replied shortly, casting his senses about the house. They were alone. "We should obliterate this place as well."

"They'll just try again in another location. It's such an easy set up, no wonder they keep attempting it."

"Yes, but preparing the altar is annoying and time consuming. I'd just as soon not leave one ready made for them." Besides, he hadn't had a chance to fight today. He felt like demolishing something.

"What are you going to do with her?" he huffed, indicating the bundle in Castiel's arm.

His Brother looked down at the baby he had saved. He hadn't really thought that far ahead. "Last time we were in a similar situation Anael searched for a suitable family to leave the child with."

"We don't have the time for that nonsense," Uriel snapped, refusing to speak that name. "Find a place of worship and leave her there. It's what mud monkeys do with their unwanted offspring."

5

Sam and Dean were snapped out of a deep slumber by the double shock of a growling male voice commanding them to wake up and a cat in heat screeching from right inside their room. A pair of luminous eyes regarding them from the darkness did not help matters.

"What the hell, Castiel??" Dean yelled, switching on the bedside lamp. Sam was already clutching his knife and was ready to pounce, but his brother was right. In the meager light they could see a familiar trench coated figure standing at the foot of their beds. The noise, though...

"What- what is that?" Sam asked. The angel was holding a writhing bundle in his arms, and... it couldn't be.

They turned on the main light. Castiel's left sleeve was stained with blood but he otherwise looked fine, if rather weary. "I've tried all the places of worship I could find along the way, but they were all deserted," he said by way of explanation.

Dean had ventured out of bed and right up to him, and he could see a tiny, red-faced baby wailing from within the swaths of a pink fleece blanket.

"Will you... will you take her?" Castiel pleaded. Sam had come closer to see for himself, but when the angel tried to extend the bundle he retreated with wide eyes.

"I'm not sure-"

"All right, all right, here, give it to me," huffed Dean, taking the baby from a very relieved angel and adjusting his grip like he handled newborns everyday. Sam was impressed. The baby paused long enough to take a deep breath and then kept right on crying. Someone in the room next to them started to bang on the wall.

"Once again: Cas, what the hell? Are you all right?" Dean looked pointedly at the bloodied sleeve.

"We saved a seal tonight. And the sacrifice," he replied, tilting his head to indicate the baby.

The Winchesters looked at each other. "But the parents..."

Castiel lowered his eyes to the floor. "One of my brethren would have advised me to search for a family myself, but I don't have the time, nor the competence. Uriel said humans leave their orphans in places of worship, but..."

"It's two in the frigging morning, Cas. No wonder you couldn't find anyone."

"I know she would have been found come morning, but I couldn't leave her alone through the night."

Dean was trying to shush the baby and looking a bit freaked out, but at this admission he broke into a sly grin. "Well, don't you know it. A cute baby can melt heartless bastards like you too."

"Hospitals," piped up Sam, "the best place to abandon an infant at night would be a hospital."

"Seriously Sam, sometimes I wonder about you."

"_Dean_."

"Yeah, yeah, you're right. Hospital is the best place."

The brothers looked at Castiel. Castiel looked at them. The baby squeezed her eyes shut and cried with all her might.

"I should already be on my way. Can't you-?" He looked at them beseechingly.

"No way! First of all, this is a stealth operation, and we might be good, but you can't be stealthy with a fire alarm going full tilt in your arms. You, on the other hand, you can just poke noisy orderlies in the forehead and be done with it."

"If that is the only problem," he said, surprised. He reached out towards the baby, fingers already pointing and poised.

Dean took a literal jump back, clutching the baby to his chest protectively. "No! You can't blast an innocent child with your angel mojo!"

"It's not harmful," Castiel protested, slightly offended. "I'd only put her to sleep."

"Thanks Cas, but we just need to get her silent," Sam said placatingly. "She must be hungry- or maybe she needs to be changed? We, hum..." He shared a panicked look with Dean.

"She's merely frightened," said Castiel, tilting his head and looking at them like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "and wants her mother."

"Great. That makes it all easy then!" Dean groused petulantly, bouncing the baby in his arms so nervously that it was probably only stressing her further.

Castiel heaved a big sigh. Then he reached up and scratched the back of his head. Only his hand went further down his back, under his clothes, and then he produced a gleaming grey feather with a flourish.

Sam and Dean's jaws dropped. Castiel tickled the baby's nose with the feather and she immediately stopped crying, puzzled by the new sensation. She calmed down to hiccups and grew quiet.

Castiel handed the feather to Sam, who took it with wide, incredulous eyes.

"Always works," whispered Castiel, looking with satisfaction at the three silent humans.

With a rush of air, he was gone.

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_**Goosey Goosey Gander where shall I wander,  
Upstairs, downstairs and in my lady's chamber  
There I met an old man who wouldn't say his prayers,  
I took him by the left leg and threw him down the stairs.**_.

If you're curious about the nursery rhyme, check out rhymes dot org dot uk... the story behind it is rather interesting!


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